Griffin of the Night
by Kawaii-Nekochan88
Summary: A bit outdated this story is now... but.. well. I've left it up here as more of a point of interest. I might end up coming back to it some day, I think! Anyway. A story of a young lady who has joined the Order of the Phoenix.
1. Introduction

"**Griffin of the Night**"  
By Kawaii-nekochan88

Many people would say that your home is where your heart is. But if a certain individual were to lose their home, would that suggest that they then have lost their heart? For a young woman, her situation in life was barely stable from an early age. She never came to call anywhere home other than the presence of her father, and upon occasion, that of her mother as well. However life demands that things change and sure enough when her father died and her mother forgot her child, this girl was forced to come of age in a less than comfortable way. This story, her story, is a story of how Rhea Heatherwind came to the company of 'The Order of the Phoenix'.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

_Hello everyone! This is my first fic in a long time so hopefully it will be a good read.. :3_

_From what I've planned thus far the story will start relatively slowly, so please bear with me as it's all for the sake of developing atmosphere and (God forbid) a bit a depth. For those who are weary of them, this is indeed the dreaded Original Character fic but I stress that this is not an intended Mary Sue - I welcome all reviews, comments and opinions on the matter. _

_Finally, as the Harry Potter timeline was never quite defined by J.K. Rowling you'll have to excuse me if some time related facts (such as peoples ages, or when events happened) are a little off - though I really tried my best to keep things logical.. _

_Thanks for reading and on with the fic!_

**-Insert standard disclaimer-  
**


	2. Prologue

**Prologue: A Tale Intertwined  
**

It was a breezy midsummer's day when Rhea decided to take what had become her usual stroll down by the river ferns. Gently winding her way through tall trees and other forest obstacles in her path, she regarded the silent beauty that was 'The Forest of Meab' as she went. Today would mark the eleventh year she has spent within the confines of nature and she reflected on that with a quiet sigh. Stepping over a particularly large rock Rhea faltered but swiftly stabled herself on the trunk of a nearby birch tree. She remained there, pressed against the thin silver bark for a few moments before looking back over the way she came. All she could see in the distance was row after row of silver tree trunks spread nonchalantly across the forest floor. Most of the ground was covered in small sharp rocks and one would have to be particularly careful when threading off the forest path. Almost as though she had done it again, Rhea absent-mindedly rubbed the top of her right thigh, wincing slightly at the memories of her last misadventure.

With a slight shake of her head she picked up where she left off and the ground underneath her slippered feet slowly changed from stones and soil to a soft emerald grass.

By the time Rhea reached the shallow bank of the River Lu the sun was still high in the sky and casting it's warmth across the stout ferns that littered the area. She sat herself down on the river's edge, listening to the water bubbling and tumbling over the smooth grey stones. Closing her eyes in contentment, the balmy wind crept lightly over her face. Rhea smiled as she inhaled the scent of blossoms and bark.

Rhea, who was often anything but at peace with the busy world, found herself here, deep within one of the few remaining magical forests of Ireland at the age of eighteen. (But, we'll come to that later on)

Born to a happily married couple, an English wizard named Armos Hendrick Wisterby William Dumbledore and an Irish muggle woman named Selene Heatherwind, Rhea was born on an afternoon not unlike the one today on the fourth of June. For two years the Heatherwind-Dumbledore family lived in peace but they like the world around them suddenly found themselves surrounded by the horrors of a newly risen evil - Lord Voldemort.

Rhea's story really begins on an evening just after her second birthday.

A trio of black robed wizards had broken through the front door of their small suburban home in Whistle Downs, London. Most fortunately for the occupants, they were holding a party at the time and the attendees were mostly capable wizards and witches. A dangerous magical fight ensued leaving no one dead (a blessing if ever there could be one) but many critically injured. One such person was Rhea's father, Armos.

Several months after the party all the guests had recovered and left St. Mungo's Hospital with the exception of Armos, their next door neighbour Herbam Portalin (who, being the forgetful man he is, forgot his wand that particular evening) and a Ministry of Magic Official who still hadn't woken up yet. The three Death Eaters had made their violent escape just as the officials arrived, and it was perhaps then, that Rhea first lost her faith in the Ministry.

Try, though they may, no one could discover the reason for Armos' ill health. Though completely healthy in the medical sense, he still appeared gaunt and exhausted. Also, he seemed to have lost the ability to cast spells, or even do any kind of magic - it was almost as if he had been turned into a muggle. Eventually, St. Mungo's had no choice but to release Armos and hope that getting up and about would cure whatever ailed him. But, for the rest of his life, Armos neither cast a single spell or charm.

As a result of this, Rhea spent her growing years in a completely muggle world. Whether they felt it safer this way or fate decided things should be that way, both Armos and Selene sent Rhea to school as a muggle, raised her as a muggle, let her believe she was a muggle and Rhea, in turn, considered herself the daughter of muggles - eventually forgetting altogether that she could be, or maybe was, a witch.

Still, though she never thought much of it, on her sixteenth birthday Rhea nevertheless recalled a party, attended by many people in funny clothes (carrying sticks no less) and a gentle old man with a long silver beard.

Less than a year later, Rhea's father came home in a jubilant mood, proclaiming like a mad man that the world was safe and peaceful once again. It had been a long time since Rhea could remember her father grinning and laughing like that and it filled her with a sense of joy that too was long forgotten. Because, even though her life had always been comfortable, Rhea's was anything but joyful. In complete elation, Armos insisted that the family leave the house and in his words, "Walk anywhere we want!"

Selene reluctantly agreed, though remained as quiet and reserved as she had become over the years.

That was the day Peter Pettigrew blew up half a street and went into hiding.

By the following year, many changes had occurred in Rhea's life. After being slowly led away from the wizarding world, she suddenly found herself submerged within it once more. Fearing that she was now alone in foreign lands, it was her Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Uncle who assured her that she was not. Her father had died on the sidewalk that day, while her mother was taken care of by St. Mungo's representatives. Although seriously injured the worst blow to Selene had been a mental one. No longer able to stand a life of lies or able to handle an old one involving magic, it was decided by Rhea with the comforting hand of her uncle (as she called him for simplicity's sake) on her shoulder, that her mother's memory should be erased. From that point on, Selene Deirdre Heatherwind though remaining a widow, forgot she had a daughter, and lived on her own in Wilton Ways - less than ten minutes away from her small forgotten suburban home.

Rhea had since finished her muggle schooling and with, once again, the advice of her uncle she left for Ireland to study magic in druidic forest of the High Priestess Meab at the age of eighteen.

And this is where we return to the peaceful girl still sitting by the River Lu.

Opening her warm golden eyes, Rhea was sure she felt a shift in the air around her. She slowly raised herself off the grass, distractedly dusting off her long lilac dress. Taking small composed steps along the ferns, she subtly turned her head from left to right, looking for the source of her unease; her long, silky hair tailing after her like a ribbon. It's unusual midnight blue colour shone in the fading sunlight.

'_How long have I been daydreaming…?'_ She wondered.

Becoming increasingly agitated, Rhea narrowed her eyes in distaste before catching sight of a small tawny owl flying in her direction. A small '_Oh_!' escaped her lips and her agitation quickly disappeared.

There was only one person who wrote to her.

The owl fluttered to rest at the base of one of the larger ferns. It seemed a little flustered, though perhaps it was just weatherworn. Rhea couldn't help but suppress a laugh when it gave the towering plant a venomous glance before extending it's leg with a hoot. Once she removed the letter the owl gave yet another hoot, this one considerably louder than the last, and took off with great speed. Rhea silently watched the owl disappear into the sky before straightening up and examining the emerald-inked parchment.

After carefully opening the envelope she read the letter several times, each time more certain than the last that she had misunderstood. However, by her seventh inspection, she was sure that she was correct and the facts of the letter had fully dawned on her. She was, to say the least, a little shocked.

Waiting for her, back in England, was something that she never quite expected to own - a wand.


	3. Chapter One

**Chapter One: **

**"A Herald of Things to Come"**

It had been a hot day, of that there was no doubt. This year England had been suffering from a long drought and the resulting mood of such intense heat across the country was a restless one - for muggles and wizards alike. Even the magical village of Hogsmeade was blanketed by the scorching sun and it's shoppers tried futilely to wander between their destinations and stay cool.

The general gait was a sluggish one moving slowly and without grace, only hoping to make it to the next store before ending up like Madam Rosmerta's prized azaleas, which had indeed been a sorry sight to see earlier that same week. Most fortunately for Rosmerta a certain herbology professor had been passing by the Three Broomsticks at the time and she was able to suggest a useful potion to revitalize the withered flora. Soon after that, the rest of the shops in Hogsmeade had acted quickly to protect their precious displays as well, be it with a potion, spell, or what had swiftly become the new craze with plant enthusiasts - the refilling watering can. Which, not only refilled itself with clear, cool water, but emitted a low buzzing sound and hopped around the place when the flowers started to look a little peaky.

Indeed, it seemed that only when the sun had finally set did the denizens of Hogsmeade find some repose. Through thick and thin most had finished their shopping in time to make it home for tea, but those who remained, in for example, the Hog's Head, welcomed the cooling evening even more still.

One such person was a young lady, waiting quietly in the upstairs of the aforementioned location. Sitting with the composure of one much older then herself, she sat patiently in the cushy chintz chair a steaming mug of tea held between her slender hands. The room was dim, but not dark, small but comfortable.

Earlier, her eyes had wondered over her surroundings, taking in the threadbare carpet and wooden furniture set with a degree of interest, but she now contented herself with listening to the murmur of voices, raucous laughter and the heavy clank of empty glasses on the bar top as they drifted up from below.

Tucking a stray strand of long dark hair behind her ear, she watched the silver wisps of steam swirl and twirl from her cup before bringing it to her lips carefully. She took a delicate sip from it, pondering over her most recent journey while throwing a momentary glance at her leather travel bags, left tidily against the wall.

She had arrived earlier that evening, her thick woolen cloak and weathered bags in tow. Of course, despite the beginnings of the sunset, she was soon swamped with the heat and shed her cloak instantly, earning her a fair few looks.

At first she had the sensation that something extremely large and hairy was on her face but a brief pass by the window of Honeydukes quickly defeated that notion. Perhaps on most occasions, she wouldn't have let the curious exchanges bother her, but today she decided that it would be best to avoid drawing attention to herself and made for the Hog's Head with great speed.

She observed the wooden table in front of her and upon concluding that it was safe, rested her half empty mug on top of it. Allowing herself a slight slouch, she inclined her head a little to better examine her clothes. To her, they seemed perfectly fine, though she supposed she wouldn't be the one to think otherwise anyway. Brown eyes trailed down the length of her dress, but quickly snapped up when she heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Or rather, when she thought she did. A slight frown passed across her face.

_'He should be here by now..._ '

She let out a long slow sigh, trying to think back to what one of the bar maids had called her. What was it? It was something about her sleeves. Without realising it she slowly raised one of her arms off the chair, rolling her eyes at the realisation of the comment - the stout barmaid had called her "princess". No doubt the woman meant no harm, but it seemed like such an inappropriate name for her, strange to her ears as it were. Looking at nothing in particular, she recalled the scrutinizing look she had received as the woman led her upstairs to this room.

"Yes, yes, here ye are m'dear. Room on yer left, though I don't know why a dainty thing like ye would be hanging around here at this time of night."

Silence and a skeptical look.

"Ah, now, don't give poor Marie that look, I mean no 'arm and yer busi'ness is yer own. Though ye certin'ly look the part. Like ye walked right outta a paint'n with yer long dress and long bil'owly sleeves, aye. On with ye. Marie tends to ramble in her old age but I mean no 'arm, I mean no 'arm."

Her eyes softened slightly at the thought of the woman, who certainly seemed sincere in her concern. However, business needed to be attended to and this was indeed, an important matter.

At that moment the large oak door opened with a low creak and two figures walked in. Standing up with a grace that would assure Marie of her opinions, the young lady pushed her chair aside and greeted the new arrivals. One was the bar man from downstairs and she looked at him fondly before giving him a peck on the cheek. He took both her hands in his, a large smile beaming from his face.

Moments passed as he played the part of an old uncle observing his niece before giving a nod of the head and returning downstairs, where too, business called. The other figure, who remained silent while watching the touching scene shut the door gently, beckoning for the both of them to seat themselves at the table.

She sat herself one again, returning to her cup of tea. The older man observed her, an amused expression on his face as he conjured up a drink of his own. Looking up, she caught it and soon her eyes sparkled like his, mischief playing around in the chestnut depths.

With the beginnings of grin she placed her mug back on the table carefully before moving onto important matters.

"I say, have you heard about those fantastic new watering cans, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Indeed I have my dear," he replied evenly, his blue eyes twinkling with anticipation and mirth,

"And dare I say, you sit with a poise that suggests you've left one somewhere quite uncomfortable."

With a very loud, and unlady like snort, the young woman broke into peals of laughter, a look of someone who had dropped their self-restraints for the first time in a long time blossoming over her features. She remained like that, laughing heartily for a short length of time before calming slightly; a wholesome smile playing on her lips.

"...How have you been, Rhea?" He asked gently.

Looking across the table at this niece, Dumbledore kept a soft expression as he saw the tension around her return. Her eyes became slightly harder and she sat up straight once again.

"...Not well, I'm afraid. Ever since I got your letter I've noticed such heralds bear witness to the forest. It ... upsets me," she added quietly.

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly, having already expected such news.

Since the time of Peter Pettigrew's escape, and even more so since the TriWizard Tournament, signs of Voldemort's dark influence have been creeping across the lands. Though, he himself had never been one for divination, Dumbledore could indeed sense unrest in the air and he held little doubt that those as in tune with nature as the druid's of Meab's Forest wouldn't feel it too.

"...Uncle?"

Leaving his thoughts aside, he returned his attention to the young lady in front of him.

"You understand why I called you here, Rhea?" All seriousness evident in his voice.

"Yes."

"Then you are sure, that you will put yourself in this danger? I have no doubt that Voldemort will discover you and for as long was this war rages, you'll never be able to return to the forest. You'll be leaving your home behind for this. Are you sure -"

He stopped for Rhea had raised her hand.

"Uncle, I know, I know. I've thought about it a hundred times... I'm going to desperately miss the forest but... if I don't help now... I'll lose the forest anyway. I'm the only one aside from Meab who uses a wand, and should these ... _Death Eaters_, " her face showed difficultly at the thought of them, "come to the forest either on my account, or with the intention of recruiting the druids ... they won't stand a chance. Druidic magic is created from the balance of nature, it won't hold against such evil. At least, while I'm here, with you... and the Order... I can keep an eye on them."

Dumbledore was about to speak again when Rhea cut him off one more time,

"That is, keep an eye on both the Death Eater's movements... and the Forest. I'll know if something has happened to it… or Meab for that matter."

Dumbledore reflected on his niece's thoughts. True, she was capable enough, but she hadn't been schooled like the other wizards and witches in the Order and she was going to find things difficult indeed. She herself didn't own a wand until two years ago and like her teachers, her magic was druidic.

"Your magic will be much weaker away from the forest, you do realise."

Rhea gave a curt nod, her eyes focused on her mug.

"Yes... I kind of... felt like something like that might happen," indicating to her hair with a wave of her hand, " and my hair has changed since I left."

"Not just your hair - your eyes have too, my dear," he said, creating a mirror and passing it to Rhea with a flick of his wand.

Shock registered on her face as she saw the change in from her golden colour, while Dumbledore thought it slightly curious that of all things his usually level headed niece would be shocked about, it seemed the change in her eyes moved her the most. Which brought him to his next thought.

"Rhea, my dear, I'm afraid to think that you may have already made up your mind about joining the Order long before we even arranged to meet. Am I correct?"

A shadow passed across Rhea's face and she placed the mirror on the table.

"You are - I have and I did. At least, I knew that no matter what, it was time for me to leave. If someone has to leave the forest to watch over it, then it should be me. It makes sense, really. Meab gave me a home and now I can repay her for her kindness these past years. Alot has happened ... and I also ... I want to help you. And the Order, of course, but you and Aberforth... you're family. And I think, it's time I started to see more of you both. If something happened and I was just in the forest… I'd never know, no one would know to write me... and it rather frightens me ... I have to be here. _I want to help_. " She finished, her eyes slightly bright.

Dumbledore permitted himself a gentle smile, mulling over her words and touched by her concern.

"Alright Rhea," he said slowly, giving her time to retract her words, "This is it, then."

Reaching inside the sleeve of his long purple robe, Dumbledore pulled out a small piece of parchment. Hand slightly shaking, Rhea took and read it carefully, before passing it back to him with perhaps more force than she intended.

Suddenly, without warning, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside, a balding red haired man falling though the door with a 'Bang'.

"Albus!"

"Arthur?" Dumbledore replied, a look of confusion and worry hidden by his steady voice.

"What's the matter? Is it-?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh Lord, Albus, the Ministry is in an uproar about it! They're talking about sending Hit Wizards! It's a complete fiasco!"

"What happened, Arthur? Calm down."

"Mundungus. Something must have gone wrong. By the sounds of things - he left his post and well, Harry ended up using _magic_...!"

Rhea had never seen her Uncle like she saw him now. A sudden energy seemed to ebb from him and she could tell just how angry he was.

"...Professor?" She said quietly, not quite sure who this 'Arthur' was and if he was to be trusted - and Arthur in turn, must have noticed Rhea for the first time. His eyes went wide in surprise, his hand moving to cover his mouth.

"It's alright Arthur." Said Dumbledore calmly, before quickly taking control.

"Arthur go downstairs and prepare an owl. I must send a letter immediately. Rhea I must ask you to remain here in this room until I return - I dare not ask you to seek out the headquarters on your own."

Arthur's eyes widened even more so at the word 'headquarters' but he made no sound and instead turned back the way he came with considerably more calm than when he first entered.

"Please stay, I'll come back when I have sorted this out."

"Alright, Uncle. Be safe."

And with that, Rhea watched his purple robes disappear through the doorway as well.


End file.
